


Sanctuary: Declaration of Hope

by B_Radley



Series: Rise and Fight Again [21]
Category: Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Corellian World Building, Families of Choice, Grief/Mourning, Healing, Love, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 07:55:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11916528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/B_Radley/pseuds/B_Radley
Summary: Celebration, remembrance, and renewal on Corellia.





	1. Celebration: Ahsoka, Nola, Bryne, and Jamelyn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Merfilly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/gifts), [zinjadu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zinjadu/gifts), [SLWalker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SLWalker/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Sanctuary: Name-day](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8492242) by [B_Radley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/B_Radley/pseuds/B_Radley). 



> 100th story. Gifted to three readers and writers who have encouraged me with their comments, as well as their stories. 
> 
> Three chapters, not too long. Posted tonight, tomorrow night, and Monday. No spoilers for other stories, just teasers.
> 
> Thanks y'all.
> 
> Thanks to all who read. Enjoy.
> 
> Additional note: Okay, chapters longer than I thought. They had more to say. Each chapter, even though unified by a theme and setting, can be taken separately.

The warrior watches from a balcony, the hooded robe covering the distinctive features of her species, as well as her unaccustomed formal wear. She reaches up and touches the new headdress, a gift from the soon-to-be guardian of the hope of this brawling, loving, gambling world. A woman of two worlds, much like the huntress. Her eyes soften as she hears the chamber doors open at the far end of the Great Keep.

Another pair born of two worlds walks through the door. A tiny girl of about six years old leads. The girl walks purposefully towards the end where her future lies. If she chooses when she is older. Ahsoka smiles as she recognizes the stride and carriage. The way that she makes the dark green dress look as if she is ready, with a little training, to take on the universe. Ahsoka focuses on Jamelyn’s features. She doesn’t have to look hard to see the features of the girl’s uncle—her hunt-brother. The girl’s eyes have the same qualities that her uncle, her father, and grandfather possess. At least what she has seen in the portrait of Jamestyn. A powerful warmth, leavened with piercing calculation and analysis when needed. For a half-second, Ahsoka imagines the little girl looking up to her left, directly at her. The gray eyes lock on hers for that instant. Ahsoka blows her a kiss. For another instant, Fulcrum imagines that the eyes give that impression of the green of her uncle, then the piercing blue of her mother, just as the crooked grin of her uncle plays across her lips.

Something she has never seen on any of the other relatives, either live or in art. Ahsoka’s heart sinks as she contemplates the other side of Jamelyn’s heritage. Her great-grand uncle, Count Dooku of Serreno. Fallen Jedi Master. Separatist Leader. Sith Lord. Killed by Ahsoka’s Master in the stars over Coruscant. The man nearly responsible for Jamelyn's mother and her father’s death on Raxus, as well as the uncle who walks behind her, two steps back and one to her left. The position of a Protector. The Covenant. She realizes that the green version of the gaze is on her as the pair pauses in the center for the small audience to recognize and bow to the Covenant and the future Hope. One Elector-Presumptive and a possible other. She Smirks as she dips her head to them.

She senses the eyeroll, rather than sees it. With a start she realizes that his Force-signature is slightly active.

She knows that to the others—except for a few, his features are indistinct—shielded. She doesn’t know why he has bothered. A certain little troll has been steadily filling the Holonet with stories of his exploits as a rich layabout noble, as well as his legend. Not to mention the fact that there is only a small crowd here from offworld. Her features grow thunderous as she sees one unwelcome guest.

Delilah Sal, Imperial Advisor and possibly soon-to-be Imperial Viceroy of Corellia, if she can force the semi-elected Diktat to resign, as everyone says is her aim.

Ahsoka lets the thunder fade as the Force shows her how much his Force-sense is working. Well enough to display that green, gold, and purple light in her mind. She remembers their parting on the _Draq’stone_ , earlier. Of those words that he had whispered to her. Words whispered in relief. Relief that this ceremony will give them. At least for another ten years. The relief that they will be able to share the fight with each other.

That he will still be able to fight, without endangering his world. With a start, she realizes that Jamelyn and Bryne, _no, Jame - call him by his birth name_ , have reached the dais with its collection of septuagenarians and octogenarians of the Electoral Council, as well one Dragon.

She listens as Draq’ opens his mouth to speak.

~=~=~=~=~=

Nola Vorserrie watches as the Covenant stands straight next to the little girl. She turns slightly to the couple standing next to her and grins as she sees the Viceroy of Alderaan give a stifling look at the tiny creature wriggling in her mother’s arms. A stifling, but loving look.

Nola sees a flash of movement in the balcony alcove. Her dark eyes flash as she think of the risk that Fulcrum is taking on a Core world. She grits her teeth, the relaxes. _So what the hell else is new?_

She relaxes. _She would not miss this._ Her eyes tear as she sees her pain-in-the ass watching the proceedings. Not many alive know what the expression in the huntress’s powerful blue eyes means. It means that she is living. Nola’s heart swells as she thinks of how her two responsibilities will be able to live in each other’s light. When both had thought that the other’s light was stilled. Stilled by the darkness that they will be able to continue to fight together.

Draq’ Bel Iblis’s voice cuts through her reverie.

“Jame _atin_ Blackthorn, son of Jamestyn, son of Nadara Shysa-Blackthorn, you have reached the age of Declaration, as set forth in the Articles of Declaration by this Council, under the authority of the Concordat of the Covenant. Do you accept your charge and responsibility to the Five Brothers?” The Dragon’s voice, a mixture of Corellian and Outer Rim drawl, underlaid with a cultured university inflection, is cool and dry.

All eyes turn to the hunter. He is silent, his eyes distant. Nola knows his expressions as well. He is remembering those who have gone before. He looks up at the vaulted ceiling, then glances over to the alcove. When his voice rings out, it is as true as his uncle’s.

“With respect to the Electoral Council, I do not accept this charge as the Elector,” he says. There is a murmur in the assemblage. A low murmur, as most here know of the agreement. Nola smirks as she sees the poleaxed expression on the face of the Imperial, as well as the other Imperial sympathizer, Arrianya Tagge-Bel Iblis.

The expression of the Imperial Advisor is replaced by one of calculated interest. The Tagge’s husband, the Senator of this world, and son of a Dragon, grins broadly at her expression.

The murmur stills at a look from that Dragon. Jame takes a breath, and speaks.  “Your Honors, I am most suited to continue as the Protector of my world—the Covenant. I submit that the daughter of my late half-brother, Garen, and his wife Ala, of an Elder Family of Serreno, the Gainsefields, is most suited to Declare upon her sixteenth birthday, the Electorate of the Five-Brothers.”

He turns and eyes the crowd. “There is precedent for this. We are both descended from Inasia Raylan, the first Covenant-Hope of Corellia. My grandmother, the last to hold the Covenant Chain from the Raylans before before my father, married the Elector; uniting the two titles and the two remaining Elder Families into one.” Nola sees him smile. “Before she succeeded him as Elector when he died. I submit a proposal of Amendment to the Declaration I signed.”

He turns and bows to Draq’. The old man’s eyes are blank, before shifting to a smile of pride. He looks at the assembled Council. “Is there anyone here who objects to this proposal of Amendment to the Articles of Declaration?” His eyes look at the Imperial and his daughter-in-law, as if daring them to speak before devouring them with a burst of flame.

Or at least snark and blasterfire.

The Imperial, a reputed daughter of a former wife of the last Covenant merely smiles.

Draq’s expression changes to one of tenderness. He beckons the little girl forward. He turns and lifts a golden chain from a minion’s hands. He places it around the girl’s neck.

She turns around and faces the crowd. She fights tears, but stands straight. The golden chain appears to weigh her down. Nola smiles as Jame kneels next to her and bows his head, whispering to her. The little girl laughs and gifts him with a dazzling smile. She places her small hand on his head.

Nola turns and looks at the Elector-Presumptive’s guardian. Her foster-sister. The most loving person in the universe.

Her eyes widen as she sees the emotions on Daaineran’s crimson face. Unfamiliar ones. Fear. Uncertainty.

Nola walks over to her as soon as the ceremony breaks up. She pulls her tightly and whispers in her ear. “Hey. That little girl will be the most loved, most protected being in the universe. She will have her choice in ten years, sweetie,” Nola says. Dani smiles against her chest. “I know, love. It is just that I’m not sure if I can do this or not. I still want to fight.”

“You will, Daaineran. Draq’ and Phygus will be there to watch over her while you do what you need to do.”

Dani snickers. “Great. She’ll grow up as a slicer and pickpocket, with a little bit of calculating Dragon thrown in.” She breaks free. Her eyes are suddenly sad again, as she watches Jame and Jamelyn slip out from the crowd, heading towards the stairs to the balcony. Nola follows her gaze. Dani has that same distant look on her face. As if remembering her dead.

~=~=~=~=~=

Ahsoka turns as the door to the alcove opens. She grins as Covenant walks in with the Elector-Presumptive on his shoulders. She sees him grimace in pain as Jamelyn shifts on his healing shoulder. Without a word Ahsoka reaches her arms out and snags the Hope of her world from his shoulders and twirls her around. The bright laughter of his niece eases the pain of the healing knife wound in his shoulder.

He realizes that Fulcrum now has a giggling growth on her shoulders. Jamelyn stills her laughter as she runs her hands over Ahsoka’s montrals and lekku. “Sweetie...,” he starts.

“It’s okay, Bait,” she says. “Family is allowed.” She reaches up and places her hands over Jamelyn’s tiny ears. “They aren’t just for that, you know,” she says, archly. “Somebody has to already have my motor running for anything else….”

“Good to know I can,” he says with a grin.

“Who said you could?” she snarks.

The Elector-Presumptive, future head of state of the Five Brothers, is treated to bright giggles as her uncle’s fingers play over the bare midriff of the feared huntress.

The laughter stops as she sees him grimace again. Her hands take his left one in its splint between them. She brings it up to her lips, kissing the injured ring finger. She can see his eyes grow sad as he contemplates the lost ring. A remembrance of his past life, from a time when they each thought the other dead.

She smiles as she thinks of the ring resting between her breasts on a chain, right next to a tooth that matches those on his gunbelt, and a single gold Republic credit, given to her by a pirate crew as a symbol of her elected rank with them.

“So, is this it? Are you free for a few years to be a pain in my ass?” she asks.

He shakes his head as he watches his niece take in the word, trying it softly under her breath. “There is one more final thing. A meeting of the Electoral Council, me, Dani, and Jamelyn, to put seals on the Articles and the Amendment tomorrow morning.”

“Any issues that could crop up?”

“Well, technically, the Diktat can sit in, but can’t add any amendments or object. If he chooses not to, the Imperial can sit in. We’ll see.”

He reaches over and kisses her, gently.

“Keep the ship warmed up. May have to get out of here in a hurry.” He ignores the eyeroll of Jamelyn at the show of affection. “You think that someone could perhaps take the Hope somewhere else?” she asks shyly.

“Perhaps,” he says, with a grin. “What do you have in mind?”

“Just wondering if the Covenant of Corellia might give me a dispensation to commit a blasphemous act with him in the Great Keep.”

“I am sure that this will be allowed, peasant,” he says imperiously. “I’ll ask the Dragon.”

The eyeroll is almost physical. “I am sure that he‘ll love when his feared Protector asks him permission for that.”

“All the more reason to do it,” he replies. “As long as you can keep it down.”

“Depends on whether you can hold my interest.”

~=~=~=~=~=

Nola turns the corner and walks out on the balcony. She stops short at the sight and sounds before her. Daaineran Faygan, the Electoral-Mother of the Five Brothers, one of the bravest people the fixer knows, looks out over the sunset.

Sobs rend the night air.


	2. Remembrance: Dani, Nola, and Ti

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Those who have gone before teach us still.

Nola Vorserrie looks at the woman standing next to her as they watch the Zeltron’s sobs wrack her body. Without a word, Queen Breha of Alderaan turns. “I will go find Jamelyn, No-no. You are what Dani needs, right now.”

While the Queen silently walks back into the Keep, Nola takes a breath and walks towards her foster-sister. Her heart is rending with the woman’s pain, as the normally tight shields on her emotional resonance are frayed.

She walks over and touches the shorter woman on her back. She feels Dani stiffen and turn. Nola draws Dani into her arms, allowing the sobs to subside.

She holds Dani tightly as a much-older foster-sister had once done for an awkward seven year old, just before she left Naboo for Corellia.

After a moment, Dani pushes her away, gently. The Zeltron snuffles, rubbing her nose on her gold laced arm. Nola smirks and pulls a handkerchief from her belt. “A Handmaiden’s work is never done,” she says. Dani laughs as she uses the cloth. After a moment, she is still as she looks down.

Nola only allows her to give in to the pain for a moment. “Come on, Dani,” she says, drawing her hand on the older woman’s arm. “Let’s find a drink or three.” It is Dani’s turn to smirk. “We are in the Great Keep of the Five Brothers. A place of sacred power and duty. One does not drink in here. Except in large packs of old men and women.”

Nola matches the expression. “Yeah, well, that might be out the door. I happened to be in the wrong place at the right time, when your Covenant reached out and handed me the Hope of his world before slamming the door in my face. I think that the huntress-who-is-not-here might’ve been in the room and starting to work on his belt buckle.”

Dani’s eyes soften as they head from the balcony. “Well, I guess its as good a place as any. This is a celebration after all. I just need to check on Jamelyn to make sure she isn’t scarred or anything.”

“I think she is okay,” Nola says. “Queen Breha was with me. She took things well in hand. The last I saw of the Elector-Presumptive, she was being charmed by a four-year old Princess Royal. They are probably getting into mild mischief under the watchful eye of the Viceroy-Consort of Alderaan and the Procurator-Fiscal and External of Corellia”

Nola sees a small smile flow to the crimson skin of Dani’s face as she sees that image in her mind.

Nola guides Dani down the corridor. “Come on. I know a bar near here. Maybe you can tell me what is weighing so heavy on you, _tra-gere_ ,” she says. Dani smiles at the words in her birth-language.

_Sister of the heart._

~=~=~=~=~=

The ‘bar’ turns out to be a park bench on the grounds of the keep. Nola pulls out a bottle of brandy and two snifters. Dani smirks as the younger woman splashes a generous amount in each glass. Two CorSec Guards walk up to them as they spy the two women and the bottle.

They immediately find something else to do at Dani’s _Chief Superintendent_ look in their direction. Nola grins. The Elector-Mother does not wear the formal gown of convention. She is clad in her CorSec dress uniform, her only adherence to convention a long skirt rather than trousers. Nola nods at the Bloodstripe of the First Rank that decorates the seam of the skirt.

The highest honor for a Corellian in any service. A purple sash under her gunbelt, as well as a golden circlet adorning her head, denotes her new station, as the legal guardian of that little girl now playing with another Princess.

Nola takes a sip. “So what is going on, Daaineran? You are usually the strongest of us all.”

Dani takes her own sip, contemplates the rich amber liquid. “Just remembering those who have left me,” she whispers. “It’s what usually happens when I let my fears get the better of me.”

“You’re thinking of Ti, aren’t you?” Nola says, taking Dani’s hand in hers. After a moment, the Zeltron nods. She touches her waist, where Nola knows a crimson resin-jewel rests on a golden chain. A jewel that contains a tooth from the headdress of an Elder Huntress of Ahsoka’s world.

“I am thinking of a time when I thought that she was going to push me away, because of what I am. Because of her own experiences with one of my people. One who took something precious from her.” Her purple eyes transition to black again. “Instead, she taught me something about what I am about to experience.”

Nola’s face is calm. “Tell me,” she whispers.

Nola pulls her close, allowing the brown and blue waves to rest on her shoulder, as Dani begins.

~=~=~=~=~=

Dani comes awake to the cry from her side. For an instant, she wonders where she is at. The dim light of a dreary, watery world plays through a small window. She looks down at the powerful woman next to her. Her eyes widen as she sees her normally serene and calm huntress’s head thrashing from left to right. Dani pulls her into her arms, holding her loosely, careful not to jostle the healing stomach wound.

Ti had not told her how she had acquired the new wound. Only that it had occurred on Brentaal IV, at a prison under siege by Separatists. Ti had been called to assist another Jedi, Quinlan Vos, a Shadow, like her former padawan. Dani allows a sneer of distaste to play over her beautiful features. Tal had experienced his own issues with the Kiffar. He had looked at Dani with his own sneer, when she had arrived, after Ti’s adjutant, Captain Pal had sent her a cryptic message.

She brings her hand to Ti’s cheek. As she does, Ti’s eyes snap open. With a sudden cry, she shoves Dani away and off of the bed. Dani manages to roll to avoid serious injury from the fall. Her eyes widen as realizes that her lover’s Force power had been behind the shove.

She looks at Ti, her eyes now tearing. She has seen Ti undone, whether in the throes of passion, or in the grip of an attack of her illness, but she had never lashed out before.

Dani gets up as she sees the Jedi Master’s face crumple as she turns away, unable to face Dani. The young woman steels herself, prepared for the worst, a litany of possible offenses running through her mind.

 _I’m too young, I’m too silly, I’m an ‘attachment.’_ The young officer shakes her head. She closes her eyes and centers herself, much like she had seen the Jedi do in her life. She opens her resonance slightly, only offering comfort.

If it is wanted or needed. She sees Shaak relax. The tears flow gently from the Master’s eyes. Dani walks over and knees her way across the bed. Ti reaches up and touches her cheek.

Ti speaks in the language of Dani’s mother’s world, haltingly at first. “I am sorry, my heart,” she says. Dani’s eyes widen. Ti rarely speaks in such words to describe this. They both accept the limitations of their relationship, using the euphemisms for what they mean to each other.

Something Zeltrons are not good at doing, when speaking of the matters of heart, mind, and body.

The three parts of the Zeltron soul. A soul that deserves plain speech. “What is it, Shaak?” she asks. “Did I do something wrong?”

Ti shakes her head, seizing Dani’s hand in hers. “Never!” she cries. Dani watches as she calms.

They are silent for a few moments. Finally Dani finds the courage to ask. “Shaak, what happened on Brentaal IV? Pal said you went through a lot. Even that asshole Vos seemed to think that you were hurt more than your wound. When he wasn’t giving me the evil eye.”

Ti smirks at her description of the Shadow. One that she has heard before from the lips of her padawan. The expression fades. “I had to face my past, as well as remember losses again.”

Dani raises her eyebrows. “Is that what the dream was about?” “Kind of,” the Jedi replies. “One of the prisoners on that world was one that I had put there. Along with Master Kenobi. Her name was Lyshaa.”

Dani sits back as if punched. A name that had once been common on her world. No longer, since the infamy of the last bearer of it.

A young woman who had murdered her own family just to prove her strength. That she was more than the empathic resonance of their people. Dani tries to speak, but can’t. Ti nods. “I see that you know the name.”

“Only from stories. The history is not taught on Zeltros. We are shamed by it,” she says. “I was very young when it happened.” With an effort, Ti gets up and walks to the sideboard. She busies herself pouring two glasses of water. She sits down on the bed and hands the second glass to Dani. They both drain the glasses. “I told you that I had been to your world. I had actually been twice.”

“The second time, I went to track and capture her. Or at least that is what I told myself.”

Dani waits as Ti gathers herself. “I might’ve gone there for vengeance. To kill her.” She feels Dani’s hand tighten on hers. “Why?” she asks, her voice betraying her dread.

“Because she murdered my padawan. Fe Sun, the one before Tal. Just before she was to be knighted. She was the second that I lost.”

Dani gasps, her eyes tearing. “Kenobi was going to let me kill her. He gave me the choice. I am pretty sure that he might’ve killed me if I had chosen murder and vengeance. I don’t know. I am grateful for him giving me the choice.”

“So what happened on Brentaal?” Dani asks, dreading the answer. “Did you kill her?”

Shaak gives a brief shake of her head. “I gave her the choice. Even after she shot me. I watched her kill herself in a laser field.”

“Was that the dream?”

“No. The dream was that I saw you transfixed by those beams. Not her.” Her eyes are unable to meet Dani’s.

Dani is silent. Her heart tears in two at her next decision. She gets up from the bed and gathers her clothing. Ti looks up, her violet eyes wide. “What are you doing, Daaineran?” she asks.

Dani looks her in the eye. “I am going. I never want to hurt you. I don’t want to constantly remind you of Fe’s loss. Of who took her from you.” She turns and walks towards the door.

She squeaks as she feels herself lifted and yanked back to the bed, as if by an unseen hand.

She lands in the arms of a Jedi Master. “No, my girl. You misunderstand. You don’t remind me of the loss. You remind me of what I saved. Of what I have gained.” Dani feels her lips against her neck. “I saved myself from falling, by sparing her. I lost children.” The Zeltron smiles at the word. _Not padawan_. “But I gained another. One who survived to knighthood and grew into a powerful, compassionate man.”

“Some would say he is still a child.” Their shared laughter rises. She feels Ti’s arms tighten around her middle. “I also gained something else,” Ti whispers. “Not a child, but the most loving person in the universe to help me touch the light. And stay in it.”

Dani turns in Ti’s arms. Their lips meld softly as that light expands, without words.

Later, as she watches the huntress sleep, Dani Faygan makes a decision. One that she will not share with Ti, but will hold to herself, for now. She sits up and begins to whisper in her language.

Words of an ancient vow.

_I hold you as my heart bond. I may have others to share my heart, my mind, and my body, but you alone are above all others. I hold you as my bond of the ne’itage-gere._

_My inner heart._

She smiles to herself. It is enough for now. Someday, if Ti allows it, they will speak the words to each other.

~=~=~=~=~=

Both women’s tears flow freely as Dani finishes the story. Nola speaks first. “Dani, I know that you miss her terribly. I am so sorry that you had to go through that alone. But why, now? This should be a joyous day for you.”

Dani kisses her on her cheek. “I know. It is. I am just thinking about my fears of raising Jamelyn. Of the responsibility of a world. I realized just before you came in that Shaak gave me so much more than love for me.”

“She taught me about facing fears. About the love of a child and for a child. About saving oneself for oneself, as well as for others.” She smiles gently, looking Nola directly in the eye. “A Jedi who was restricted from attachments, taught me more about unconditional love and compassion than any of the so-called ‘experts’ on my world.”

Nola pulls the older woman tightly to her. She kisses the crimson forehead, underneath the golden circlet holding her hair back. “You are going to be a helluva mother, Daaineran Faygan,” she says. “Jamelyn, and Corellia are lucky to have you looking out for the Hope of your world.”

As she holds her, she does not see Dani looking out over the horizon. Seeing an elder Huntress smiling at her in her mind’s eye.


	3. Renewal: Breha, Bail, and Nola

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Senator has a crisis of doubt. A Queen is his strength.
> 
> Renewal for all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. Finished sooner. Thanks to all who have read, and especially those who have commented.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it, as much as I did writing it.

Breha Organa comes awake slowly with the morning light. She smiles at the warmth of the skin that she lies against. Her eyes open more when she realizes that Bail’s breaths are not the steady rise and fall of slumber.

She looks up at his beloved face. His heavy brows are drawn together as his dark eyes stare at the light of Corell peeking through the curtains. She grins and applies her teeth to his chest. His eyes slide over to focus on her. An instant before the retribution occurs she sees it in his eyes.

Just before his index finger finds a certain spot where her jaw joins her neck.

The morning air of the guest room in the Palace of the External is split with paroxysms of giggling and laughter as she tries to pound his chest.

The sounds end with quick breaths as he winds up on top of her, their mouths joined in a deep kiss. When they come up for air, she sees his brows knit together again.

“What is it, my dearest?” she asks. He rolls off of her and pillows his head on her shoulder. “Come on, Viceroy,” she says in her ‘Queen’ voice. “I know you. I know when something is bothering you.

He remains silent for several moment. Breha knows to let him take his time, after nearly fifteen years of marriage. “I see the celebration that took place and I wonder if it wasn’t better to let Covenant assume the Electoral Signet. To keep him from being a part of this damned thing.”

Breha’s eyes widen at his words, as well as his downcast expression. In the five years since the Empire took over, she has seen him down, but has never heard this tone of defeat in his voice.

“Why, Bail? Why would you deny him the chance to fight? The chance to fight beside - _what is the term_ \- his hunt-sister? We need to build this thing to more than a few cells. Ahsoka will need help doing that. He is perfectly suited for it - especially in the Core with the backing of Draq’.”

He shakes his head. “Maybe I don’t want any of them to fight anymore. Maybe we should just turn our efforts to preserving Alderaan. To help those in need, like we have always done.” Bail closes his eyes. “I don’t know if I can watch them suffer any more than I already have.”

She knows he is seeing Covenant lying in a medbed, a reattached finger healing, unconscious as Ahsoka watches him, her arm in a cast with a break in two places. She knows that he is seeing Nola floating in an untried substance, a bullet wound in her chest, a vicious, diabolical substance flowing through her body. A bullet that she had taken for him.

She sees Nola holding Ahsoka to her, unconscious after taking a blaster bolt meant for her.

Of the myriad other hurts and injuries to these and to others such as Draq’s daughter and even his Senatorial son.

“Is it worth it?” he whispers. “Can we ever hope to defeat the Emperor?”

“Why don’t you ask those who we are seeing bleeding and broken in our minds, my love,” she says quietly. “Why don’t you ask Ahsoka? Little more than a teenager. Her childhood stolen from her. Very nearly made to kneel and let a clone, one of those _brothers_ of hers put a blaster to her head because of betrayal. Her family destroyed. Hiding from the universe for a year until she found you. Trying to stay off of the Empire’s sensors, but still drawn to do whatever good that she could. Drawn by the memories of her dead family, as well as those teachings that didn’t betray her.”

His expression is unreadable, even to her. She continues. “Or Nola. She watched the Empire slaughter her Queen and her fellow Handmaidens. You saw her when she first came to us. So filled with despair and wishing that she had died with them. Afraid to go back to her family for fear of retribution against them. A young woman stronger than any I have known, now riddled with fears that her friend, no, _her sister_ may die because of someplace she sent her.”

He shakes his head. “It won’t be Nola that sends Ahsoka to her death. It will be me.”

“That doesn’t matter. Nola will feel it.” She reaches over and kisses his ear. “It is what makes us different from the Empire. We will feel every one of our deaths.”

She makes to open her mouth again. “You don’t have to list them all, Bre,” he says. “I…”

She silences him with her lips. “Yes. I do, Bail,” she replies. “That Corellian who we saw give up having the world at his feet. All to protect it and that huntress that he grew up with. He, just as much as the rest, has lost so much. Did you know that he was married? After Empire Day?” Bail stares at her, shakes his head. “When he thought his world was dead, including the woman that was the closest thing to a mother he had, as well as our huntress, he found life again for a while.”

“He could’ve lived his new life, raising smartassed, fierce little Mandos. But no. He and his wife found purpose. Purpose in helping those who needed it.” He can see her eyes filling with the recitation of pain. “Until he lost everything again. That beautiful Mando. His unborn child.”

“Ask him if it is worth it, Bail.” He moves to her face, kissing the tears that spill freely down her cheeks.

“I am just afraid that it won’t be worth it, Bre,” he says. “That they will spend themselves in vain, for my own hubris.”

“You know, Bail, you are so full of shit, sometimes,” she says with exasperation. “It isn’t your hubris. It is your dedication to something bigger than yourself. It is those other 1,999 idiots who affixed their signatures to the Committee of 2,000. It is Padme’ Amidala.” She winces. They barely mention her name.

Or that of Anakin Skywalker.

Out of fear for the small, loving child that inhabits their lives.

He looks away, lest his face betray another. A man now hidden in the galaxy with the other hope of the galaxy. Another Jedi, who he had bonded with on a journey to a Sith planet in Wild Space, early in the war.

He shakes all thoughts of darkness and others away. He looks at Breha, his eyes growing soft. “You know, I am glad that I married someone smarter than I am.” He grins sheepishly. “I definitely got the better end of the bargain.”

She kisses him quickly with a laugh. “I guess our fathers and mothers knew best. They all knew I was smarter than you, Mr. Boloball star.” She kisses him again, longer this time. “I didn’t, you know,” she whispers against his lips. “Didn’t what, love?” he asks.

“I didn’t fall in love with your skills on the ball field. I fell in love with your passion.” She kisses his chin. “Your brains.” Her mouth tracks to his neck.”Your sense of justice and right.” He gasps as her hands touch him well southward. “Maybe a little bit of your body.” He feels her smirk against his chest as his breathing increases.

He spins her around onto her back. “Well, let’s see if we can find any new things you love about me,” he says, his own mouth playing over her throat.

There are no more words, or fears, as the light expands in their minds.

~=~=~=~=~=

Bail Organa walks into the brightly lit solarium. The first thing that his eyes fall on are the thunderous crimson features of Flori Laken, Handmaiden and caretaker of the Princess Royal. He raises his eyebrows. “You don’t pay me enough to be a caretaker for a fifty-something Dragon, Viceroy,” she says darkly. He surveys the scene before him. A small princess is covered in oatmeal. A slightly larger Elector-Presumptive is only slightly less covered, with the addition of several small fruits on her laughing face.

A face that Bail admits is good to see with unbridled laughter and joy on it. His eyes track to the largest of the malefactors. One that is of a size with him. One whose business suit front is covered with both food groups. He shakes his head and turns to leave. He feels a shove from behind and notices that Dani Faygan has been shoved in with him. His wife stands there, her eyes blazing. “Oh, no, _Daddy_ ,” she says. “You grab a rag and clean yours. Flori isn’t going to clean her for you. She turns to Dani. “You can either clean your daughter, or clean that doddering old fool who probably instigated the whole thing.” She softens her words with a smile. She touches Dani’s cheek. “This is part of it, my sweet,” she whispers. “She needs to know that you will be there, both for the laughter, and the cleanup.”

She turns as the door opens. Her new, soon-to-be Director of Peace and Planetary Security, and a huntress walk in hand-in-hand. They start, as if not expecting anyone else, and drop their hands.

A collective eyeroll is felt. “And you two,” Breha says, trying to contain her laughter. “Where the hell have you been? Don’t answer that,” she says holding up her hand. “I don’t want to know.” She winks at them both.

Behind the pair, a tall former Naboo Handmaiden, a young woman known for getting the last word, smiles at the skill on display before her.

She sees Bail turn away, unable to look any of them in the eye.

~=~=~=~=~=

Nola and Bail stand at the airlock of the Orbital Cantonment. They can hear the soft sounds of the lift from the planet’s surface, to the sprawling dockyard and construction facilities, slowing on its approach. They both eye with distaste the new Imperial Stardestroyer coming off of the graving docks. “I hate that we are having to allow that,” Bail whispers. “I know, Viceroy,” Nola says. “But profits from it are helping other of our efforts.”

He nods. “I know. It burns Draq’ as well. But we have time.” He smiles thinking of what his Queen had said to him as they lay spent in the morning light. _The time for a better world for our daughter will come, my love,_ she had said. _The Republic took a thousand years to fall. It won’t rise again in two or three years. Our daughter may have to fight for it as well. Just as Jamelyn will. Just as those who are building it are fighting now. She had kissed him. Just as my love fights._

He had not said it, but his mind had played his own reply over and over again, throughout the morning. _As does my love and my Queen._

He looks at Nola. “So you are off to your Empire Day non-celebration, then? Your tontine?”

She smiles at the metaphor. “Yes. This will probably be the last one. The dividends from the bottle will be done.” She bows to him “I will see you in a few days, Senator.” Bail pulls her into a tight embrace. “I’ll bring your new Peacekeeper-General with me, if you are ready for him.” He can feel the eyeroll against his cheek. “That is if I can pry him away from Fulcrum.”

He breaks free. “Don’t try too hard, your Grace. It may take a few more days or weeks to give Somar his cushion. Give Bryne a chance to heal some more.”

She nods. “Fulcrum will go with Lassa to the Outer Rim. Tempest will come to the Core to work his own brand of chaos.” She turns to go. “May the Force be with you, Senator,” she says.

“And with you, your Grace,” he says to the Queen’s Hand.

A small bell dings as the lift arrives. The doors open and he sees his love working to get Leia out of the safety restraint of her chair. As soon as she is free, she hurls herself at him. “Daddy!” she cries. The smile on his daughter’s face lights his own up. Flori follows, a smile on her own features.

Breha walks up to him and pulls both of them into her arms. Flori catches his eye and nods.

He looks at his wife and daughter. Breha’s eyes tell him.

_See, I told you. Worth it._

He and his renewal turn to the _Tantive IV._

_For home._


End file.
